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“Call me Michi,” the devil smiles, polite and calm like one would do when they meet someone new.
Michiru recoils at the outstretched hand, her stomach twists and turns at the nickname long gone. This should’ve been her first realisation that this is a mistake. If she ever got that uneasy warning she ignores it. She looks into the demon’s eyes, so strikingly similar to her own. Then again, the devil is wearing an almost accurate facade of her skin. “Never.”
“Why not?” The demon smiles more, showing off too many teeth that Michiru is comfortable with. “You tossed this side of you forever, didn’t you? I’m just recycling.” Before Michiru could speak, the demon shrugs and put their hands against the back of their head. “But if you don’t want me to that’s fine, though it would be a shame if I had to take another person’s name.”
Michiru stills, her heart beating fast against her chest. She knows a warning when she hears one, especially in her own voice. And the warning became explicitly clear when the devil looks at her right in the eye, the smirk almost sharp as a knife. ”Names are very important on the stage.”
The image of one person flashes in Michiru’s head and she uses it as a mental flint to light her hesitation on fire. She opened this can of worms so now she must lie in it. Her voice is authoritative, direct, hoping to mask the youth in their face. To Michi, the girl is just a child playing pretend.
“Michi it is then.”
Michi smiles all too knowing and this is the second time Michiru felt like she made a mistake. This is the second time she also ignored it. They reach out their hand for Michiru to grab. “It will be a pleasure to do business with you, Ootori Michiru .”
Her name is spoken like it’s something of fine cuisine and it took all of Michiru’s acting skills to not fear it. She takes Michi’s hand. It feels like there’s acid all over her skin, slowly burning her alive.
“You better make this worth it Michi.” The old name is poison on her tongue and it settles in the depths of her stomach in the flavour of death when Michi grins like they’re ready to feast.
Hung pictures of patron saints up on my wall
The lines of past Edel portraits who achieved great honour and success, the hallway of fame becomes a hallway of judgment when Michiru walks through it. The devil whilst not hovering over her shoulder, is deep within in the canals of her ear, whispering like all devils do, though in this case quite literally.
“So you want your little star to be up here then Michiru?”
“No,” she hisses under her breath, she didn’t trust speaking through thought. Whilst she looks less like a fool if she did, it’s better to be a fool than create an opening for her latest endeavour. The image of Michi grinning at her, famished , is loud enough of a warning for her to finally listen.
“Oh?” Michi asked, smiling like they’re playing around. “Then where will she be?”
“Beyond them, she won’t be trapped inside this frame, she deserves better than that,” Michiru halts at the end of the corridor where it ends in a circular chamber where it held a statue. It’s the founder of Seigfeld, a generational genius that Michiru longed to beat. Her star deserves something like that, she promised to bring her up there all those years ago.
“A statue? Statues of this nature are only for one person Michiru,” Michi taunts, a sweet sickening curl that made Michiru shiver. The fact stabs a wound into her chest, with a quiet scowl under her breath it’s quickly healed. It becomes an old scar yet again, something Michiru is familiar with.
Following the ritual of getting hurt with the inevitable, Michiru looks away at the long windows that set her and the statue alight with the setting sun. It’s almost a rite of passing every time she walks through these walls, she even knows what Michi is going to say next even if they couldn’t read her mind. Despite the direct warmth, Michiru stills, frozen in disbelief. This is not part of her daily walk.
“If your star is up there? Where are you?” Michi taunts as they stared back at Michiru grinning, their smile still sharp as a knife. The shadows within the glass plane flicker under their feet and Michiru could taste the answer on the tip of her tongue. It tastes of blood.
To remind me that I am a fool—
Whereas Akira is born with acting knowing in her blood, Michiru is not. Her father is an accountant, he is a busy man with a busy job. He left the house too early and returns home too late. The only time he has time is to relax is with board games and martial arts movies. It’s the only constant time Michiru could be with him growing up, it’s why she made sure she never wastes his time.
She withstood the gore and the violence, never admitting that some parts scare her as a little girl. She perfects her skills at board games for that hint of praise when she beats him, to collect that praise he’s too busy to give regularly. Time is money and he is a busy man. Time is everything, that is what Michiru learnt from him. That and work is a good distraction from everything else that didn’t matter.
Tell me where I came from, what I will always be:
Her mother... Her mother is a convoluted wireframe of flesh, cells and unchecked trauma. At least that is what Michiru found out a little too late but motive would never be enough to forgive actions. Whatever her grandmother did to her (even though the elder is fine now) she copied onto Michiru.
Growing up her mother is someone Michiru aspires to be, she is strong, confident, she could hold the room in a crowd of strangers. Growing up her mother wants Michiru to be like her too. Except Michiru is never enough. She is never good enough in her eyes, so she let her mother control parts of her so she could be good enough. It isn’t enough. Michiru always found a way to fail her somehow, she didn’t like failing people’s expectations.
But her mother did it for her sake because she wanted only the best for Michiru. That is why she had to control her emotions, to not let something childish as having fun escape her appearance unless she wants it to. Michiru learns a lot from her mother: self-doubt, the need to have some control in her life, how to hold a mask and how to act so kind but still be so distant in reality. She learns a reason why her father works long hours away from the house, away from her mother, away from her.
Michiru is so used to the background, so used to being never enough for the spotlight of her mother’s genuine gaze that when Akira proclaimed her goal to be Frau Platin, Michiru is blinded by her in the shadows. When Akira reached out her hand, she pulled Michiru into the light. In return, Michiru decided to put everything into the true star, the true spotlight and dedicated everything she ever did to her.
Michiru grows up fast but for once not for her mother but for Akira. Prodigy geniuses are a simple yet hard step to become revered for the future. For Akira it is easy and Michiru has to do her best to keep up. Michiru has to quickly figure out that she’s not like everyone else, that she’s doomed to fall for the same tragedy that befell her mother and grandmother. So she is trying her best to make sure it didn’t happen, the keyword here is trying.
Control in the long absence of control is an addictive drug. Michiru likes being in control, she likes knowing who knows her secrets and who didn’t, she likes how she’s perceived to the public as the cute supportive girl. (That part of her isn’t fake like her mothers. A part of her often wondered if she would be like that without a need for a mask if her mother is different).
A small part of her winces whenever she lashes out at Akira for being a stage idiot, unaware of life outside it. But she can’t change what years of hurt is embedded into her on her own, she only knows how to do damage control. Besides unlike her mother, Michiru always gives Akira a chance to raise her voice, to speak up, to fight back. She even encourages it when Akira becomes too complacent. Akira rarely does and so Michiru continues to make her the brightest star on the stage.
But it’s still not enough, even now as a Frau Sapphir and Frau Platin, Akira isn’t the star that blinds everything else. Something needs to change. Michiru needs to change. She still isn’t enough for Akira.
Just a spoiled little kid who went to catholic school
The idea of a troupe came to her when they first joined the Edels back in middle school, third grade. It is the first time Michiru worked with people in a group outside of school work, outside of Akira. It is the first time she followed instead of leading. Being an Edel changed everything. Sure they both had the plan still to be the very best, they had a plan to make Akira become the Frau Platin but Michiru realised what it meant to be a Frau Platin.
Not only there is power, but there is also the reputation, the ability to lead and command respect. To be a king, one needed to be powerful enough both hold your own and lift all those below you to a higher stage. Michiru couldn’t do that. She couldn’t even lift Akira to where she wants her to be. All Michiru could do is support Akira, guide her to do what’s best… only to realise she couldn’t do it alone.
Akira depends on her, maybe too much and whilst Michiru appreciates that she couldn’t play all the parts. There is no such thing as a one-man play after all. Akira needs a sword, someone to clash with and train with, someone that isn’t Michiru. Akira is too used to her strengths, too used to her many weaknesses and the way she counters them effortless. Akira needs more ways to grow.
Enter Yumeoji Fumi.
She is bold, egoistic, reckless . She is a blade in need of a whetstone, someone to temper her, someone to put her in her place. She strives for the very top, she gives Akira the rival she desperately needs to improve. There is no time for Akira to get comfortable now that there is a wolf in blond fur nipping at her heels. Fumi made Michiru grow too, Michiru grew because she finally understood the consequences when she fails.
Seigfeld broke Fumi.
And in turn, her departure broke parts of Akira and Michiru. They were close to friends as ones could be in the hellscape that is Seigfeld, in this survival of the fittest landscape. Akira blames herself brutally for not noticing, for not being enough of a leader to notice when those under her were on the verge of drowning under the pressure. Michiru highly disagrees with her but she won’t ever voice it. Akira understood her flaws better through this, it is one lesson less for Michiru to teach and besides, she doesn’t want more problems for Akira. This is something Michiru has to handle on her own.
Michiru is a spoiled brat, too used to the idea that everything will go to plan. Sure there are times where there are setbacks to her plans but until Fumi broke and left, nothing ever went so wrong it can’t be fixed. Slowly, eventually— Michiru gets what she wants. (There is always one thing she wants, but she knew better than anyone that she didn’t deserve that want— not yet. Not now when they have so much work to do.)
This time, however, she won’t make that mistake. Yet it’s in the nature of humanity to go out of the script, to leave things to fate and to take that leap despite knowing or not knowing the risks. But Michiru didn’t trust fate. Fate is cruel, fate is an entitled audience demanding to be entertained. So Michiru wouldn’t fall to Fate like any other human would when things went tough— no. She becomes something else, inhumane.
Or without the floral perfume words to mask the stench of the truth— Michiru becomes a girl with a devil in her head, trying to make sure she didn’t taste the bitter flavour of regret again.
When I am dead I won't join their ranks
Yumeoji Shiori
Liu Mei fan
Tsuruhime Yachiyo
Those are the people they chose together to become Edels. These are the people Michiru hand-picks with Akira to bring her star higher. And oh how Akira shines among and with everyone. These girls being Edels are one of the best things that happened to them and Michiru couldn’t wait to see how they would all grow.
“Oh? Are they involved too? Michiru, you shouldn’t have.” Michiru’s muscles tense up, it stiffens again at the low whisper, the hollow hunger of a devil’s coo. Michiru doesn’t reply. Akira is going through the next routine they have planned, it's time to practise and to say anything would reveal everything. Yet the laughter in her skull is loud enough to make her head ache terribly, “I’m not hearing a no, maybe I should call myself someone else to get your attention?”
It's bait, it is a clear obvious bait. To speak to Michi in her mind would open her mind to the devil and that is something she couldn’t afford to do. However, the threat of hurting others is too risky to even dare it. The pain triples and Michiru takes the opportunity to grab her head and wince, whispering a harsh “Don’t” under her breath. The howling laughter makes her shut her eyes from agony.
Akira stops talking already, her eyes narrow in concern as she lowers the script in her hand. “Michiru?”
“I’m fine,” Michiru lies. She didn’t dare look up and see the lie crumble in Akira’s eyes when their eyes would meet. This is a secret she couldn’t have Akira know about.
“Michiru senpai,” Shiori said as she tries to touch Michiru’s shoulder, Michiru jerks away before she could and gave the younger kouhai her best apologetic smile. She couldn’t trust herself enough to keep them safe, not when she’s compromised. Shiori took the rejection the best she could and thankfully kept a safe distance.
Unfortunately, someone else isn’t as kind and understanding.
“You’re not fine at all Michiru,” Akira scoffs as she marches over and holds Michiru’s free arm. Her hands are against her wrist, where one would feel the pulse but Michiru had a feeling she knows how she felt by just the look at her eyes. The stare is cold, unreadable. Yet Michiru can see the concern burning through it and it makes her heart sting.
“Go to the infirmary,” Akira commands as she let her go. “I’ll catch you up on what you missed when you’re feeling better.”
Because they are both holy and free
It is Michiru’s choice to become a devil’s advocate, or in this role— its’ vessel. She would never dare to let those under her, those who need her, be involved. She would do whatever it takes to achieve their dreams, to reach that stage wreathed with celestial lights. She would not force anyone else down that path unless they are determined to follow her down the spiral.
And even if those caring idiots dare, Michiru would not allow it. She needs them for another role, she needs them to help Akira in places where she could not.
Mei Fan becomes the blade that was gone after Fumi left. She is fierce, passionate in her ambitions of reaching Akira. She approaches Akira with a lesser bite than her predecessor but it’s better for all of them. Akira knows all too well how to handle the cold. Mei Fan is just the right light with enough fire, with enough passion to make Akira see and fight better. Rivals tend to be better when it’s people of opposition after all, whether that be through beliefs or personality. Rivals also tend to make people grow and Michiru can see Akira growing a lot when she indulges Mei Fan’s demands to fight again.
Yachiyo is the one who indulges in Akira’s youth, allows her to be more of a stage idiot and to have fun. Michiru won’t approve of her methods considering how scandalous they are sometimes but she’ll let it slide. Akira smiles more because of her, even if most of them are tired smiles. Michiru has seen Akira smile plenty of times but it is always nice to see it be more open. In some ways, it just reassures her that when everything is all over, Akira would still know how to smile even when she’s not around.
Shiori taught Akira to be kind, to be gentle and see from another person’s view. There is a calm fondness around the pair when they work together, it is something Michiru foretold when she told Akira to bond further with the kouhai. Michiru just never knew Shiori would be this good of an influence, it makes her happy to see it— even when the pain twitches her chest.
And I'm in Ohio, satanic and chained up
These were some of the lessons Michiru struggled to teach Akira and have it stick, particularly the one to see it from another person’s view. Often it would cause a slight argument— the way Akira doesn’t understand why Michiru would act the way she does. Why doesn't she stop, why she doesn’t take a break and relax. Her reasons are valid, how the goal is for two of them to work together and there are moments, many moments where she wants to yield.
It’s a complex problem, having your motivation be a distraction. To wish and realise that walking next to each other— as in next together with their hands touching and distance gone, is almost the same as their current side to side walk, with its distance apparent as that crushing want. It almost makes Michiru give in. But then she remembers that a statue is best admired alone and the fact alone is enough to crush any fragments of that desire.
And until the end, that's how it'll be
Michiru needs Akira, not the other way round. Yes, Akira wants Michiru, she wants her to guide her, to make Akira realise that she isn’t always right. Akira is prideful and often believes whatever she does is correct, much like Michiru before Fumi’s departure changed her. Akira wants Michiru to help her concentrate, to understand new technologies is around without looking like a fool.
But Akira never needs Michiru.
It’s the other way round.
Where would Michiru be without Akira? Where would Michiru be without this goal they had growing up? Lost. That’s what she would be. Michiru likes having a direction, she likes having goals and something to work towards but without something concrete, Michiru would jump from goal to goal, work to work.
With Akira, she can remember to be a child sometimes under the guise of work and making Akira better. Only sometimes, everything she does is made to help someone else, like bringing Akira to the aquarium to teach her about animals. But sometimes she can pretend that she did something different and yield to her desires for once.
I said make me love myself so that I might love you
“What was that?”
“You knew I would like it if you knocked first Akira.” Michiru looks up from her dormitory bed, her slight glare tires at the way Akira is against the door of her room, back against the door with her arms crossing against her body. It’s been a few days now since Michiru has been to the infirmary, naturally, she is unwell enough to be called off sick. Akira is too busy making sure that their kouhai is alright so only now could she visit.
“I would if you were okay,” Akira argues, she stands up straighter, uncrossing her arms. “What happened back there?” The blunt comment can come off as accusatory and it almost does despite the true meaning that only Michiru can read. Are you okay?
“I made a wrong call,” Michiru explains but also didn’t. Michi sniggers in the back of her head and it made her muscles squirm. She really did make the wrong call but she’s not going to stop it now, she never does things half-heartedly. Especially when it comes to Akira.
“Clearly,” Akira mutters as she walks closer. She presses the back of her knuckle on Michiru’s forehead despite Michiru’s protests. It didn't last long as Akira’s frown deepens and she steps back. “Your face is pale yet your skin is cold— almost as if you were out in the snow... I thought you had a fever but now I’m unsure.”
“Glad to know you remembered the symptoms from the last time I taught you about it,” Michiru jokes with a sigh as she shuffles so Akira can sit on the bed. She doesn’t normally do this and it’s apparent when she catches Akira’s brow raise from the corner of Michiru’s eyes. Michiru doesn’t say anything— moments later, Akira sits down.
Don't make me a liar, because I swear to god
“Something is bothering you.” Always direct, always serious. It’s what Michiru expects from her but she couldn’t help but be surprised inside. Michiru isn’t looking her way, she’s staring at the mirror, too scared of what will happen when she looks away from the devil with red eyes and a tainted child’s name.
“Blame it on this unknown illness,” Michiru murmurs, letting out that slight humour in her voice— that lightness is getting too cramped with Michi burrowing themselves downwards into Michiru’s skin. Michi taps on an invisible wrist and then gazes fondly at Akira’s mirror image and with a hand with too long of the nails, they stroke her neck like a hunter calming prey. Michiru fists curl under the blanket.
“I would but this isn’t just on the illness is it?” The laugh that left Michiru’s lips never seems so tired. Akira blinks and a hand falls on Michiru’s wrist— not hand, that is too dangerous for both of them, even when comparing it to the unknown or known devil of Michi. Still, it manages to make Michiru shut up. And for once, Michiru turns away from Michi and looks at Akira.
“She’s still so serious when she doesn’t try.” Michi muses and Michiru doesn’t speak. She could hardly hear Akira’s words despite being so close. Has this distance always been here? No— it always had. It is there the second the promise is made but it never been so apparent until now. “This is going to be a problem Michiru, serious means bland. I always preferred my meals to at least taste something.”
“A five-star meal so soon and she won’t even taste good," Michi complains with low hungry sigh. Akira’s voice is drowning out. Flashes, maybe warnings of the future spark in Michiru’s head. It’s a metal flint and the fire it creates burns Michiru’s skin. She yanks her arm from Akira’s already loose but comforting grip in case it spreads. She is close— she can’t get distracted now.
“Shut up,” Michiru hisses under her breath. Michi didn’t, they just laugh and laugh and—
“I’m sorry?” Michiru ignores Akira, even when the surprise hit her like a bullet through the ribs. Like the child she never really grows up to be, she hides herself under the blanket. “Michiru?”
“I wonder if your star called you Michi if you would answer, seeing how childish this is… Michi.”
Michiru couldn’t stop herself if she tried. Instinct is always faster than rationality, especially in dangerous situations to get people out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, this only strengthens the demise.
Don’t call me Michi.
Michiru doesn’t need to do much to realise she made a horrible mistake, returning the snap and bite in her head instead of her tongue. All she needs is to close her eyes. Close it and realise that the path in front of her doesn't exist and that for the first time when Michiru looks back— Akira isn’t following her.
When I said it I thought it is true
“Please Leave Akira.” Michiru’s voice is hoarse, crumbling in its ache but it resounds everywhere in the tenseness of the air.
Akira stands up, following the command but she hesitates once she saw the conflict in Michiru’s expression. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you look like you're in pain?” Michiru didn’t speak. Akira continues, her control slowly snapping like frail twines of rope. “Was it something I said?”
“I told you it has nothing to do with you Akira.”
“Liar.”
Silence yet again, somehow it’s heavier than before. Akira runs her fingers through her hair and steps away from the bed. It’s tempting to walk around to Michiru’s side, to face her properly but right now when the space is so delicate she didn’t want to stumble and ruin everything.
“You can tell me anything Michiru,” Akira admits softly, looking away so that to reduce the intensity of it’s meaning. “You know that right?”
Michiru doesn’t say a word— and so Akira takes a heavy sigh and leaves, politely shutting the door as she did.
Only then does Michiru remembers to breathe, tears crawl down her cold skin, her nails sink into her palms like she’s digging her burial. Michi whispers in her ear one last time.
“Oh, Michiru…” They coo, the hunger crawling down her spine. “My five-star meal… finally, you have a flavour,” Michiru swallows down the sorry she should’ve said, chokes on the three word sentence that she wishes she said instead of saying goodbye. Her eyes grow heavy, something pierces her skull, forcing the ache to throb. It feels like a knife carving her up for dinner. “Bitter sweetness is such a delicious thing.”
Saint Calvin told me not to worry about you
When Michiru wakes up, she’s in a familiar place. It is not a comfortable place but familiar.
It’s hell.
“Finally,” Michi smiles, grinning too wide and too alive for someone that could only appear in glass and dreams. They are standing, they are moving and only then does Michiru realise she’s on the floor. That she’s too weak to stand and that she’s so, so cold.
Michi is in her revue outfit, but the main colour is not white but black and the greatsword is adorned with scales and horns on the blade guard. They crouch to Michiru’s level and touches her chin. There Michiru learns she’s in her school uniform, the ribbon on her neck though is now around her hands behind her back, tight and confining. “I was worried I took too much from you Michiru but considering that you’re still kicking I think I didn’t take enough.”
“Go to hell Michi,” Michiru snarls, jerking her head away from the long nails of a devil’s touch.
Michi laughs and walks away, down the steps of this pedestal to return to the underground stage. “Says the person who walked in and demanded an audience with Kirin himself.” They look back and wink, cocky and proud of the circumstance. “You put yourself here little Michi, I know mummy never told you much but surely as a big grown-up kid you knew not to make deals with devils right?”
But he's got his own things to deal with
Michiru stiffens, her breathing getting harder to regain.
Michi laughs and spins the massive blade with ease between their hands. “What? Didn’t think I would read up on who exactly my host was? I know everything about you Michiru.” The blade stops and Michiru can feel the suddenness cut another heartstring of her already bruising heart. “I know everything, Michiru.”
The blade is in her direction now, smile wide still showing the many teeth that make Michiru’s skin crawl.
“Ootori Michiru, I rate you 10/10 for your feast and your own damn story,” The laughter from their lips is genuine as the smile and it makes Michiru sick looking at it. “So many emotions,” Michi cheers, “So much bitterness and regret. The emotional turmoil and irony that you think know what’s best for everyone when instead, you don’t even know what’s best yourself.”
It’s already hard to breathe for Michiru but to hear the blatant call out makes it hard to swallow any more air into her lungs.
“There’s never going to be as someone enticing as you because through all your thoughts, through all your inner messes and thinking, you—” Michi lets out a sound of disbelief, their eyes glancing up towards the ceiling, at the two stars in the far distance— the symbol of an impossible dream. “You still get your stuff done Michiru.”
“What?”
Michi turns from her, the blade on their shoulder as they walk down the steps again and onto the real underground stage.
“Your star is coming, just like you expected.”
There's really just one thing that we have in common
The plan— Michiru in all honesty almost forgot it. It’s a first for her but then again, there is a first for everything right now. The plan…
Michiru’s eyes widen and she attempts to stand but Michiru collapses under her weight. The thud causes Michi to turn around and snicker. Meanwhile, black spots cover Michiru’s vision as she makes herself stay awake. She stood up too quickly.
“How does she know I’m here?” The voice is weak and rough but in the silence of an upcoming storm, it echoes in the chamber.
“You scream in your sleep,” Michi laughs like it’s a joke. “It’s as if you’re in a nightmare when really, we’re so close to your dream come true.” The tone is amusing at best, humiliating and mockery at the worst. Michiru stands again— slowly learning from the last time and takes a gentle step down the stairs once. It takes everything in her to remain upright and stay on her step and not fall all the way down.
Michi glances back, makes a huff of disbelief but doesn’t do anything to stop the ever-present journey to escape and continues talking. “She burst through the door, believes she saw a ghost and tried to hit me.” Michi spits on the ground, their smile turns vicious with a subtle twist of the corners of their lips. “Your star has nerves I guess, an idiot too much like their guiding light.”
“Anyways, like the deal you made, I followed the plan and told her if she wants a body instead of a corpse head to the theatre alone.”
“I’m surprised you even listened now that you have everything you wanted,” Michiru hisses with a slight cough, as she moves down a second step. Her head falls back on the step previous and swirls on her tongue for when she bites down on it on accident. Had Michiru look down, however, she would’ve seen the devil haunting her express something she didn’t think devils would have— fear.
“No one goes against the Kirin, and if they do they somehow win, they’ll bleed for it,” Michi warns with a shiver. They look at their hands, marvelling at the way their skin regains colour like they’re returning to life. Secretly, they wonder how long has it been to have a skin, to have a voice— to move freely unlike puppets on a string, dancing for defeat for an audience they never see. They wonder if Michiru will do the same as them if she was in their shoes. No one wants to play the same role forever— certainly not as something like a khorus destined to keep on dying.
Neither of us will be missed
All thoughts cease as the storm bursts through the doors, eyes fierce and a lance sharp enough to pierce armour. Akira’s eyes fell on Michiru, all broken and frail and the storm escalates to a blizzard.
“Michiru!”
“Eyes down here Aki~ I’m your opponent this time, ready to face your dear Michi?” Michi chuckles as the grip on the hilt tightens, Michiru may want her star on a statue but they want to be free from being a monstrous extra.
Akira snaps to Michi and dares to jump down to the stage, causing the ground to crack under her weight. She rises, like a hero to their call and stares down Michi with eyes ready for slaughter. “Don’t call me Aki.”
“Funny,” the devil smirks, eager to push more buttons. “Michi said the same thing.”
A saint bernard sits at the top of the driveway
The name of this revue— Revue of Promises, flashes once in the backdrop as the stage builds a playground, familiar and haunting in its youth long abandoned. It distracts Akira for a moment, the surprise is apparent in her body language that something like this returns on a stage of all places as Michi takes the opportunity and attacks first. Akira blocks and sends one in relation, but it misses when Michi launches again, this time it misses but still reaches, clearing away a cuff of the sleeve but nothing else.
“This is your stage isn’t it?” Akira howls, the rage’s depths clear in her calmness. Michi answers her with a laugh and another strike that Akira barely blocks away. “How dare you!” In her fury, Akira attacks once and then twice— finally giving Michi a reason to fall back. “How dare you taint a memory so precious!”
Michi blocks the third strike and pushes Akira back, kicking sand in her eyes from the sandbox of Michiru’s memories. “Don’t blame me for something that’s not my control—” Michi yells as they slash the greatsword down. Akira dodges but the background doesn’t. Akira stares in horror as the jungle gym, the origins of their dream— their promise, the place that began everything crumbles to the ground after Michi slices through it all.
“Don’t blame me for a choice your Michi did.”
You always said how you loved dogs
Michiru doesn’t realise she’s crying until the cold droplets sting the cuts on her knees. The fight is beyond the ruins of the jungle gym now, heading close to the swings but Michiru doesn’t notice. Her eyes are on the jungle gym. It’s broken. It’s gone.
What does this mean about their dreams, the promise?
Does this mean anything?
Or was this just a coincidence? Michiru doesn’t want to believe it’s fate again but if it is fate, Michiru would do nothing but weep for falling for its cruel demise again.
Oh, how human she is— to do nothing now and silently weep, tasting regret yet again in between the iron flavour of blood in her mouth. The blood is from her bitten tongue but considering how sick she feels, Michiru wouldn’t be surprised if she’s tasting the vomit of blood from her broken bleeding heart.
I don't know if I count
Michiru’s eyes are going heavy. The clashes against steel on steel, the grinds of metal and the yells and arguments are orchestrating itself to a lullaby. She’s getting tired. Maybe she’s already tired?
She doesn’t know what’s doing.
She knows what she’s trying to achieve. She wants the best for Akira but this is just something she’s planning within calculating risks. It’s hard to build a path for someone to go higher than what people expect for them. She knows this not from Akira but for herself. She knows what people expect of her, she knows what people think of her. She rises above it all at the end of the day, but still, it’s hard and even harder trying to do the same thing for someone else.
How can she make Akira stand out? How can she make her be the generational inspiration of the century? How can Michiru be enough for Akira? How can she lead the very best when the very best still listens to someone like her?
She told herself before… she would do anything for Akira. That she would get her hands dirty to get what she wants. Michiru wonders if, in the past, she ever pictures the present now when she promised that to herself.
But I'm trying my best
In the battleground, something magical happens. Magic in a sense of dark arts, of something wrong and hollow. It’s something haunting in the most beautifully sinister way. When Akira plunges her lance against the rope holding up Michi’s cloak the cloak isn’t the only thing that falls.
Michi falls too— on their knees, croaking and choking in a pain Akira can’t see. Akira’s heart lurches, for the devil she fights— and she knows it’s a devil, still wears her best friend’s face. And her heart, forever a foolish thing, is blind and still lurches and curls at the sight of her best friend in pain.
That’s when the magic comes in.
Michi’s face falls. It falls off like a mask, and behind it a ghoulish monster shrieks, it writhes and crumbles and Akira steps back, trying her best to remain calm. She knows that her enemy isn’t Michiru but the cries, the silent screams of anguish are all too similar to what Michiru muffles into her pillow when Akira thinks she’s asleep.
Akira watches as Michi loses it all, her lance is on the floor— forgotten in this sight Akira can never forget. She stares as Michi loses what little humanity they gained, as they transform back to their prison, to a soulless, empty khorus. Their cries akin to Michiru’s change and shift to something inhumane before in a burst of light, pulsing from deep within Michi evaporates.
When I'm howling and barking these songs
The light ever so blinding surges into Akira next and swarms her. It’s so heavy this light, it’s weight pushes Akira as she tries her best to push through to reach Michiru. It disappears into Akira bit by bit, rejuvenates the girl like she didn’t just fight her hardest battle yet until soon she’s rushing up the steps and catches Michiru as she’s about to fall down the steps.
“Michiru?” Akira begs, brushing away Michiru’s hair from her eyes as she sits down and cradles Michiru in her arm. “Michi please.” The use of the forbidden name doesn’t stir Michiru and instead, it heightens Akira’s anxiety. It turns into relief when she places her head on Michiru’s chest, hearing the calming ba-bump of her heart.
“What a beautiful show.” Akira turns her head and there stands a giraffe in the audience, so far away despite the voice so close. “A self-imposed tragedy is always so beautiful.”
Akira looks down, holds Michiru closer before glaring back up at Kirin. “Did you do this?”
Kirin shakes his head. “She did this to herself— dealing for a transfer of brilliance in a price for a beautifully tragic play.”
Akira’s voice leaves her and her eyes widen when she hears herself speak words she didn’t know she said. “Transfer of brilliance?”
Even from the distance, Akira can feel the giraffe’s stare bore down on her like she holds the weight of the world.
“Do you feel stronger Yukishiro Akira? Do you feel like you have the strength, the skills of two stage girls?”
The weight of the world presses down on her heart and it plummets down to her stomach as it lurches at the implication. “She didn’t.”
Kirin nods and a cold chill forces goosebumps all over Akira’s skin. “She did. Ootori Michiru made a deal with me, in a production that will make you be the very best, to reach a stage built from the promises of two children. She will give up her brilliance as a stage girl and give them to you.”
“Michiru…” Akira curses as she looks down at Michiru’s unconscious face until something blurs her vision. She wipes the tears with her ruined sleeves before any of them fall on Michiru. She feels like a child again, as if she lost her favourite plushie of Hot Kun one time so she hopes Michiru would forgive her for using the nickname again. “Michi, you idiot!”
“On the contrary, she is a genius producer orchestrating everything despite being in the lead role.” Akira looks up, stifling her tears as Kirin continues to explain. “She employed a khorus to sap her brilliance daily whilst allowing them to build up this strength for the climax where you would win and steal away not only the brilliance the khorus stole away but the khorus’ innate brilliance, no matter how murky it was. Things went even better than expected. She still has brilliance left within her, not enough to remain on the stage but enough to keep her enrolled in the school perhaps.”
“But why?” Akira shakes Michiru’s body lightly demanding an answer that she knows she won’t hear anytime soon. “Michi why did you do this!?” Akira cradles Michiru closer, weeping into her hair as the dream they have together fade and crumbles. Her eyes fall on the broken jungle gym and she buries her face into the locks of Michiru’s hair. Her shoulder feels heavier, whether it’s from the death of childhood innocence, the heartache of a girl who fell in love with her best friend, or from Michiru’s hardworking brilliance Akira doesn’t know.
“Take this back,” Akira whispers from Michiru’s hair. She stares at the giraffe, begging in her eyes as her voice chokes. “I didn’t want this.”
“I will not. Yukishiro Akira— you needed this.”
“What?”
“... She even predicted that you would ask this. Yukishiro Akira, allow me to quote the lead role herself—” Akira knows Michiru, she thought she would be ready for any reason, yet somehow the truth makes her heart bleed and soak through the clothes, staining her soul like the way her tears stain her cheeks right now.
“How are you supposed to be the very best when all you do is follow?”